


Plates and Patter

by Catzgirl



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: As the Case May Be, Character Study, Eating, Half-orc, M/M, Orc Culture, but i always would rather over than under, i don't even know what to tell you, i guess this is mostly a, it's just a cute thing i wanted to write, it's not super bad, on Fjord, or rather, rated for language, this is pre-relationship?, ya girl loves the gay orc okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catzgirl/pseuds/Catzgirl
Summary: Caleb is skinnier than the average human, thinner by far than what Fjord is comfortable with.





	Plates and Patter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losebetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losebetter/gifts).



> Rated just for language because the Texblade is a sailor and cusses as expected.

"Hey," at the fireside, a plate in either hand, "Supper time, you know," and Fjord extends the fuller of the two plates. Caleb is a grown ass man, it's not Fjord's job to hound after him with food all hours of the day, but here he is. 

The wizard in question looks up, startled, from his book. Stares somewhere between Fjord's neck and his chest as he shuffles his book into one hand, accepts food with the other. "Ah, thank you?" 

Most things Caleb says come as a question. 

"I, that is, I very much appreciate it, I suppose," see? 

Fjord gives a little laugh. There's nothing particularly funny going on, but he knows it sets Caleb at ease and that's something the human could do with more of. "Not a problem, buddy," and ain't that the fucking truth? 

Caleb doesn't eat enough. 

It's something he'd noticed early on, way back in Trostenwold, but as the weeks have gone on it's really started to piss him off. The wizard hasn't gone down in a fight since the Devil Toad but that's not for lack of trying: the man wears pretty much nothing in the way of armor, doesn't even have a spell to summon any, and remains chronically malnourished despite the fact that the Mighty Nein eats three square meals a day. Some of that is because Caleb lets Nott steal food off his plate and pretends not to notice. Some of it is because Caleb is wont to remove himself from any sort of social situation, and sometimes those occur over meals. 

A lot of it, though, is because Caleb brings a book everywhere he goes and spends more time with his nose in it than he does eating. So Fjord hands off the fuller of the two plates and plunks down by the fireside, intent on making sure Caleb actually consumes the food given to him. 

"I've read," he says by way of conversation, because those are the words that keep Caleb from his own book, "That humans need at least two full meals a day to stay healthy?" 

He has. He already knew it, from years at sea, but he's more recently checked with Beau and Jester's medical books in order to know exactly how much hell he's warranted in raising over Caleb's bullshit eating habits.  

Caleb pauses, his spoon halfway to his lips, but takes the bite. "That's accurate, inarguably," yet Caleb sounds ready to argue, "But we're not so fragile as all that." 

Well, and Fjord would never  _dream_  of calling Caleb fragile in any sense of the word. He mutters something along the lines of "of course, of course" and takes exaggerated bites of his own plate, trying to impress upon his friend that this is Eating Time and that conversation is appreciated but not strictly necessary. 

Honestly it just fucking grates on him. It's gonna ruin his fucking teeth, working his jaw and watching Caleb not eat every night. He's seen men succumb to scurvy, he's seen humans with too-pointy ribs and too-pale skin and the way their eyes go yellow in the white bits. He's seen it happen before and he's not just gonna sit around and watch it happen to one of the Mighty Nein. 

So they eat in companionable silence for a while. If Caleb realizes that his plate has been dealt a heavy hand, he doesn’t comment on it. It's as he's scrapping up his last bites that he says, "I am, ah, accustomed," and Fjord tunes in from the general camp noises of the others and the forest beyond real quick, "To going without. You know, from before," and he doesn't know, how would he know? Caleb doesn't tell anyone anything, doesn't meet anyone's eyes, "I suppose it is habit, now." 

On ships, the human men would mostly succumb to scurvy. Some of them would go pale and wouldn't go back. Sometimes men would break bones doing nothing in particular, would lift a box while their skeletons were brittle and just deal with the consequences. There are parts of Fjord that go heated and tense when his mind substitutes Caleb for those men, when he considers what could happen. Fjord isn't about to fucking watch Caleb suffer the same. Or suffer at all. 

( ** _Protect_** , part of him thunders,  ** _protect him_** , and that's how he feels about all of the Mighty Nein, but especially about Caleb.) 

"I can imagine," Fjord replies, because it's the only thing he can think of that's true without being ugly. "But, you know," and he's trying for nonchalance—missing, if Caleb's squint is anything to go by, "Oughta keep up your strength and all." He claps Caleb's shoulder in an attempt at levity as he stands, feels how awkward every movement is, but Caleb? 

Caleb hits him with a smile small enough to miss and bright enough that he's glad he didn't. "Thank you," the human says in a voice to match, "For the dinner, I mean," and he returns to his book. 

Fjord's seen humans succumb to a lot of shit over the years.  _Hope_  will be a nice one to add to the list. 

* * *

 

 

 

Getting into town, the first order of business is always to find an inn. They've always got scavenged shit to stow, always need somewhere to stable the horses, and getting a good meal with clearly identifiable meat? Hell, that's top priority. 

If Fjord has learned anything through his life, it's that all good things come with a price. 

"Caleb," Nott says, her voice just a hair below a screech, "Can I have your bacon?" 

The wizard in question sits across from him, nose in a book as usual, and makes a noncommittal noise that Nott takes as acquiescence. One of her bandaged hands passes over the plate next to her, shoveling not just the bacon but also the sausages and  _also_  one of the pork chops onto her own plate as her other hand shovels food into her mouth. It's a gut-turning display, watching Nott eat. 

Almost as gut-turning as watching Caleb starve. 

"You gonna want another plate, I suppose," and he doesn't mean it to come out as a grumble, doesn't really mean it to come out at all, and  _really_ does not mean for it to make Caleb's eyes snap up to him over his book. 

" _Was_?" Caleb asks, and Fjord can feel a burn in his face, like he's been caught at something, "Come again?" It's not Fjord's job to hound after Caleb to eat, but is he supposed to just sit here and watch the skinny human succumb to his own bad choices? 

It's not like he hasn't done what he can to mitigate this shit already. In past inn-stays, Fjord had pointedly made a No Cards rule at the table, had lent a generous stare at Caleb when he'd insisted that Meal Time Is For Food, but all it had accomplished is that Caleb now insists on sitting between Jester and Nott to keep them separated, which only puts his plate at increased risk. 

That's sorta the definition of 'backfiring.' 

Hell, Caleb's a grown man. It's not Fjord's job to hound after him like a mother hen, make sure he finishes his vegetables and all. So what the fuck is he doing now, using his fork and knife to transfer a sausage, a pork chop from his own serving onto Caleb's? 

"I'll just call over another plate," he clarifies, and his face is hot with something like embarrassment, but what the hell else is he supposed to do? "Two  _full_  meals a day is what the doctor ordered, I do believe," and Nott is watching from across the table but not with her usual interest and amusement, and Fjord is very aware that this is not his fucking place but is he just supposed to sit here and  _watch_? 

Caleb snaps his book shut, and all conversation at the table dies as he stands. 

Fjord's face is still burning, and there's real panic in him. Caleb has barely  _eaten_. He is already so malnourished, so skinny, he is the squishiest of them and every time he goes down in battle Fjord's heart fucking  _stops_  in his chest. He's seen men who didn't eat well or often, he's seen what happens. 

"Caleb," he says, and the wizard's eyes go very cold as he steps away from the bench, from the table. 

"I will be," Caleb says, in a voice as toneless as usual, "In my room," and he leaves. 

No one watches him go. Instead, every one of the Mighty Nein turn to stare at Fjord. 

"Dude," and Beau tucks a fist under her chin, glances conspicuously between Fjord's hands and Caleb's plate, "The fuck?" 

Jester grins, scoots into the vacant seat and starts to pick at the bits not missing bites, "Fjord," she croons, "Are you trying to woo him?" and yeah, that is surely a heap of embarrassment that's turning his face and neck and ears all the same shade of blue-green. 

"Gimme that back," he mutters and reaches for the food he'd so generously—helpfully, even!—offered to their resident walking disaster. 

Molly has not once paused from eating, only watching the goings on with crinkled eyes, but he swats the sausage out of Fjord's grip and spears it for himself as it rolls on the table. "If that's your game, friend," and Fjord's not feeling particularly friendly as Molly takes a bite out of a hunk of meat that doesn't rightly belong to him, "You're doing a pretty shit job of it." 

So he's not getting his fuckin' food back,  _and_  Caleb has left without eating  _at all_. That's kinda the definition of 'backfiring,' which makes twice now for anyone keeping count. 

( ** _Protect him_** , something growls,  ** _protect, serve, go now_**.   
Well, and there's a reason Fjord generally doesn't listen to this side of himself. He wants to keep all of them safe, more than that he wants to keep all of them  _well_ , but Caleb?   
Caleb has a smile small enough to miss, bright enough that anyone with sense wouldn't dare to.)  

"'m not wooing nobody," he says, and means the grumble this time, picking at what's left of his own plate, "He's just  _skinny_. It's fuckin' dangerous." 

Nott catches his eye, definitely without any of her usual interest or amusement. It's a look he's been getting more of recently, usually preceded by his trying to gently cajole Caleb into joining them for a meal, or a snack, or—Gods above  _we're just walking Caleb, look, just take it and eat it okay?_  and though she hasn't said anything about it yet, Fjord gets the distinct feeling that she doesn't appreciate him encroaching on her turf. 

Well, if  _she_  would just fucking feed him then  _Fjord_  wouldn't have to. 

When she's sure that he's looking at her, she lifts her plate, sets one edge of it just past the jagged coast of her teeth, and tips the entire serving into her face to swallow whole. Her jaw snaps shut with a noise that skitters down his spine; it's the sorta noise that means danger and death for anything caught up in it. Nott rises from her own seat and says only, " _I_  think he's just  _fine_ ," and huffs off in the same direction Caleb had taken. 

Jester and Beau's grins are likely going to split their stupid faces. 

"What's a man supposed to do," he groans, and rubs both hands over his face as though it'll smooth the worry out of him, "Roll over and just let him  _starve_?" 

Molly's hand thumps on his back, and there's laughter running up and down the table. "Oh buddy," their resident terror assures him, "You're gonna be just fine." 

* * *

 

Stop if it gets too cliché: there's firelight of course. There's a full moon. The forest is quiet, only the sound of crickets in the distance to bother them. Caleb and Fjord are on first watch, and he sticks close to the perimeter as the others bed down for the evening. 

He and Caleb haven't—well. It's hard. There're parts of him, loud and angry and violent parts of him, that  _want_ things. Parts of him that rail and roar every time Caleb gets wounded, parts of him the  _stop_  when Caleb goes down in battle, but those events are thankfully fewer and farther between the more they travel together and the stronger they all become. 

The constant refrain at dinner time? Watching Caleb—pointedly, now, as if proving something—picking around his plate and frowning in between bites and is literally  _painful_ , literally makes him want to dig his claws into the neck of every person that made Caleb go without for so long that it's become more natural to him than the alternative. 

But from what he understands (and that's not much, Caleb doesn't tell anyone anything, so Fjord listens extra close and reads between the lines) that would be pretty much everyone from Caleb's start right up until Nott took him under her wing, and he's only one half-orc, so that's just not realistic. 

The thing on Fjord's mind, as the camp gets quiet and Caleb visibly flinches as he tucks his book away and makes his way over to Fjord for their watch, is that there are parts of him that  _need_  Caleb to be not only safe but  _well_. When he was a sailor, he saw a lot of people get hurt. Mostly because they did stupid shit, but sometimes because that's just how life is. The parts of Fjord that he tends to stamp down, to barricade, to ignore demand that he do  _any_ thing to keep Caleb on his own two feet. So that's the thing on his mind. 

The  _bitch_ of the matter is that Caleb seems to put a lot less stock in his own wellbeing than can be considered healthy, and the parts of Fjord that are angry and aggressive and avid  _hate_  that. For the record: These are all parts of Fjord that he is trying to keep under control, but he's only one half-orc. When dealing with a wizard who is trying his best, who has come so far even over these short months, who  _cares_  more deeply and has the  _keenest_  fucking mind than anyone else Fjord knows? It's hard not to drown the world and everyone in it that's ever hurt him. But it's just not realistic. 

"Hey there," he says, pitching his voice so that it doesn't carry, doesn't disturb anyone. 

Caleb sits beside him, folds his hands into his lap, and meets Fjord's gaze dead-on. That's all the warning he gives. "Listen to me," he says, as toneless as ever but with eyes like ice, and Fjord's head is slipping to the side on instinct before the words are all the way outta Caleb's mouth, "I know what you are trying to do," and that glare is a physical thing on the side of his face, like an icepick boring through him, "And I do not appreciate it. I am not a  _child_ ," and oh fuck, he has  _fucked up_ , he has  _severely_ miscommunicated his intentions, this is the  _exact_  definition of 'backfiring,' this is what happens when he lets his orc side out on too lax a leash, "I will eat when I am hungry, and no more than I desire, and I will not be  _bullied_ into a bit more," and he's staring at the ground so he sees how the toes of Caleb's boots press into the dirt, sees the fidget that Caleb has controlled in his hands only to allow elsewhere, "Do I make myself clear?" 

He has to tell himself that this is fair. It's not his job to hound after Caleb, make sure he gets his proteins and all that. No matter what the bits of him that are unreasonable, that are ill-advised and unjustified and that's  _at best_ , say. If Caleb wants to lay into him because Fjord's been putting his nose where it doesn't belong 

( ** _protect, serve,_** the roaring in his brain says,  ** _feed him you idiot, if he dies you will go with him_** ) 

then that's the very least that he deserves.  

"Crystal clear," he says, and the pulse in his neck leaps towards Caleb, deference and devotion, entirely more than he wants to share, but his wants are for the bits of him that are not actually panicking, which is none of him. "I just-" but there's no way to finish that sentence that doesn't end badly, so he shuts his mouth and lets his pounding heart do the talking. 

Caleb frowns so loudly that Fjord can hear it over the clamor in his chest. "What is this?" as if there's a simple answer, "What are you—" because Caleb is so smart, he's got the keenest fucking mind that Fjord has ever encountered, "Oh." 

There's not an orc on this continent, no matter how much of the blood is actually in them, that would bare their neck to just anyone. There's not an orc above or below ground, no orc that draws breath, that would willingly show this sort of submission to just  _any_ one. 

There's a long pause between them. When it feels right, Fjord carefully turns his face back to Caleb, catches Caleb's hand halfway to Fjord's knee, flinches when Caleb jerks it back instead. "I'm only half human," he says by way of explanation, "There're things I, uh, gotta do. For some people." 

Ice, pure and unyeilding  _ice_  in Caleb's eyes as he stands, " _I am not a child_ ," he repeats, and this is not—fuck, that's  _obviously_  not what he'd meant, but— 

"Godsdamnit, Caleb, I fuckin' care about you, alright?" Both hands rub over his face as it heats, and sometimes he still feels like there's saltburn over his cheeks when they get like this, "I just, I  _need_ , alright? It drives me up the walls to think of you not doin' okay. I  _know_  you can take care of yourself," and that's true, he knows that Caleb isn't fragile in any sense of the word, "But I  _want_ totake care of you." 

Caleb is gonna ruin his fucking teeth, standing there and working his jaw as he stares at Fjord. Fjord's got a little experience in doing his own dental work, but human teeth? That's a whole other field of expertise that he's not lookin' to get into. 

"You... You care about me?" It's the incredulousness of it what damn near breaks his heart. 

Fjord's taller than the average human, and extremely aware of it. When he stands he does it slowly, both hands out so he's as non-threatening as possible, tips his chin upwards to show the clean-shaven skin of his neck. Somethings you gotta say to a man eye-to-eye. 

"I do. I didn't realize how uncomfortable I was making you, that's my fuck up, but I really do," and they're making progress, the ice in Caleb eyes has melted into something less glacier, "I promise it was not comin' from a place of- of  _superiority_  or anything. I just care," because it's true and because he cannot fuck this up, there are  _parts_  of him that are roaring and railing, 

( ** _protect, serve_** , and isn't that what he's tryin' to do?  ** _Do not fuck this up you idiot, you watered down runt_**  because not even in his own fucking head is he safe from this shit.) 

and it might  _actually_ kill him for Caleb to take this wrong way, the thought that Caleb  _has_  been takin' it the wrong way is  _actively_ killing him, but the way that Caleb studies his face for a lie? For a trick? As though this, amidst a reincarnating beacon and a fiendish devil toad circus freak and Pumat Sol, amidst all this other fantastical stuff  _this_  is the thing that is outside his ability to believe? He is going to take his claws to the neck of every person that ever made Caleb feel like getting invested is dangerous, that has made it necessary for Caleb to second guess and analyze Fjord's words. 

( ** _kill them_** , and at least he's in agreement now,  ** _maim and rip and shred them, protect him if you can, die with him if you must_** , and what he recognizes as the human bits of himself sigh at the drama, but.   
His orcish half has a point.) 

Caleb opens his mouth to speak, furrows his brow and closes it. One of his hands fiddles with the end of his scarf, the other reaches up to tap against his mouth as he considers. His voice when he speaks is as toneless as usual: "Wait here, if you don't mind," and most everything that Caleb says is a question but this comes out right on the edge of command. 

Fjord racks his brain but cannot actually come up with anything that he'd move for. So he stays where he is as Caleb walks away. 

( ** _Tuskless_** ** _runt_** , but he does not move,  ** _protect, protect him_**  and this is how he feels about all of the Mighty Nein to a point, but there are parts of him that go taut and tense whenever Caleb specifically is in danger, there are bits of him that get angry and aggressive and avid whenever Caleb's wellbeing is at stake, and it's past the point of sense.   
Caleb is something of a special case. He asked Fjord to 'make this work,' a long while back. He racks his brain but cannot actually come up with anything that he'd like more.   
**_Protect him_** , and all of his human blood gives an annoyed sigh,  ** _feed him, serve him, keep him safe you idiot_** , and for all the gods sakes, what wouldn't he give to not have to listen to this shit?) 

By the time that Caleb returns he's worked himself up into a sweat worrying about all this shit. All at once he wants to explain himself further, he wants to point out that if Caleb would just  _take care of himself_  that Fjord wouldn't be so riled up, he wants to tell Caleb that if he doesn’t return Fjord's affections it's  _fine_  even though every inch of him is sure of the exact opposite, as long as he  _eats_. 

But he  _has_  been bullying Caleb. He's been unfair and rude and wrong, no matter the intentions. Every bit of his human blood strains against him, whispers  _you cannot make these choices for him_ , stark contrast against his baser instincts, and how the hell is he supposed to function with the two halves of himself in constant discord? If Caleb never comes back, if Caleb goes and beds down for the night and leaves Fjord standing here like the jackass he is, then that's about what he deserves. 

"Look," Caleb says, and Fjord jumps about a foot off the fucking ground at the derailing of his train of thought, "Come and sit again,  _ja_?" Caleb is already cozy on their little log, angled away from Fjord to look off into the night—their friggin' actual job right now. Fjord takes his seat with all the practiced ease of a mustang—which is to say that it's awkward and clumsy and he makes more than one weird noise about it. Caleb being so upset with him already has him off-guard and fumbling, but Caleb is holding a bundle of cheesecloth in his lap that Fjord recognizes, and the very last thing that he expected was for Caleb to so easily accept his, what, affections? His declarations? Had he not made himself clear? Did he make himself  _too_  clear? 

So he sits and he's still sweating like a hog the night before Winter's Crest and his stomach is somewhere in the molten core of the planet as he waits for Caleb to tell him what the rest of the Mighty Nein already have: that he's acting like a fucking dick. 

Instead, Caleb unwraps Fjord's ration pack, gives him a bit of the muenster cheese and molasses bread and a look that's all squint-eyed and suspicious still but oddly... Well, odd, for damn sure. 

Fjord takes the offered food, but his eyes are  _riveted_  on Caleb's hands: gently pulling apart the cheese, spreading it equally over the bread, lifting it to nibble on in small bites. He is so caught up in watching the bob of Caleb's throat 

( ** _look, look how good, you've fed him, you watered down runt, watch him protect him keep him safe_**  and he almost doesn't even mind) 

as he swallows each bite, and there are  _parts_  of Fjord that go lax and loose and light with the knowledge that Caleb is  _eating_  and it's food  _from_  Fjord. 

"Is this better?" An actual question, now. It takes Fjord's brain a moment to catch up, more invested in the flash of Caleb's teeth as he munches at the crust of the bread. 

Is he drooling? No? Oh thank the fucking gods. 

"Uh," he says, eloquent as usual, "You don't gotta—I mean, I know I've been acting like a dick—" 

"Yes," Caleb says, and his odd look is almost fond? "And you won't anymore?" _Not_ an actual question, right on the edge of command. 

"I won't," and the agreement comes easily as Caleb continues to eat, nothing in him roars to life to dispute it, "I'm terribly sorry, still," and what he  _wants_  is to pledge his undying fucking devotion, what he  _wants_  is to tell Caleb that Fjord would follow him anywhere, that Fjord would do anything to keep him on his own two feet, that Fjord doesn't know when all of this started and that it doesn't even matter because where he is now is the best that he's ever been and it's thanks to the Mighty Nein and to Caleb. But his  _wants_  are for the bits of him that are not actually dazed by the sight of Caleb's tongue as he ensures that not a bit of cheese is leftover on his fingers, which is exactly none of him. 

Caleb does not wrap up the rest of the rations, but he does turn more fully to Fjord, pressing their knees together and extending a hand. "Let us shake on it," he says, and  _oh_. "To you not being a fucking dick, and to me talking about shit instead of—well, instead of this," and this is—uh, this is more than his brain can handle, snared as it is on the crumbs decorating the fabric of Caleb's scarf. 

The last time Caleb and Fjord had shaken hands, it'd been a true Zemeni handshake, all forearms and full-contact. There are  _parts_  of him that are flush and hot with the thought and they are  _not_  his orcish bits. The feel of Caleb's arm under his fingers, the muscle corded there, the faint and faded burn scars? 

"I give my word," he says, and he's pretty sure that he actually does manage to say it outloud, even though his brain is more focused on the seascape of Caleb's eyes, the blue-grey that glows in the moon and firelight, and stop if it gets too cliché but— 

Caleb leans in, and actually? Don't stop. Don't miss a moment of this. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly so self indulgent, shoutout to @losebetter for letting me yell at him about Fjord and Caleb and encouraging me to Write the Thing!  
> It may not be everyone's jam but I really wanted to explore the difference between people wanting to help you and people wanting to feel helpful, and how even the best of intentions are pointless without communication, so here! We are!!  
> As usual this is not beta'd so please!! Feel free!! To let me know if anything looks super funky!!


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